


97. Heart masochist

by tveckling



Series: Dare to Write challenge [32]
Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M, not a happy tale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 14:03:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8164484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tveckling/pseuds/tveckling
Summary: It is possible to go through life without having a broken heart, but some people simply have bad luck with love.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ambrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambrose/gifts).



They were young once, all of them. It is even possible they were happy, once upon an innocent time. Experience taught Mercutio, however, that happiness never lasts.

It's hard to imagine Tybalt without that awful temper, without that burning anger always ready to strike, but he was happy, once upon a time. He had his friends but they often played with the Montagues as children do, more interested in the best games than the age-old feud between their families. Mercutio remembers that Tybalt used to laugh a lot, back then, and he had a mischievous streak almost as bad as Mercutio. Benvolio and Romeo were his best friends, but Tybalt had been his partner. No one had been safe, and countless times the two of them had had to hide somewhere while their friends calmed down. They had been each other's first kiss during one of those times.

Their romance was young, innocent, filled with laughter and pranks and kisses while hidden away. They were young, couldn't imagine anything would change, but time is merciless. Tybalt was fifteen when his parents died, a tragedy caused by the Montagues. Everything changed then, hatred leaving the burning remains of friendship behind. Mercutio tried to reason with him, tried to make him see that the awful tragedy didn't have anything to do with Benvolio or Romeo, that they were still his friends, but his words fell on deaf ears. Instead the anger turned towards Mercutio, and the accusations flied. How could he protect the Montagues after what they had done? Didn't it matter to him that Tybalt's _parents_ had been killed? Didn't Tybalt mean anything to him, didn't he care about what they had, their relationship?

He had to choose.

It was a good thing that they had always kept their feelings for each other hidden, so that Mercutio didn't have more to explain after. He told Benvolio and Romeo about the argument—or the parts he thought they could know about. They were his brothers, his closest friends, not to mention unfairly accused by Tybalt; there had been no hesitation, not even as the harsh words hit his back. There was no reason for anyone to know how his heart had ached or how he cried at night. They only had to see his cold eyes and hard grin, nothing else, nothing else.

Benvolio was his friend, the only one who could see the truth through his stories, even when he did his best to hide it. He was the only one offering comfort, coming to sit next to Mercutio in silence after a vicious fight with Tybalt, and when Mercutio hesitantly laid his head on his shoulder Benvolio only shifted to make it more comfortable. It wasn't hard to stay at Benvolio's side, he didn't have to act or feel forced to do anything around Benvolio, and he craved the quiet understanding. He needed the haven Benvolio provided.

When Benvolio kissed him, a hesitant press of lips against his, Mercutio let him. Tybalt was still an open wound, and Benvolio was the only one who could lessen the ache. It was no hard thing to do, to let Benvolio touch him as he liked and he could even kiss him back. He would think Benvolio of all people could see how their feelings differed, but he never said a word so neither did Mercutio. It became easier to ignore the stabs of Tybalt's words when he could rest in Benvolio's arms, and even if he didn't love Benvolio like _that_ he was still a safe haven. He would have let Benvolio do anything he liked, as long as he would still let Mercutio rest his head on his shoulder.

Perhaps that was why Benvolio broke down one day, crying and apologizing until he couldn't talk for lack of breath. Mercutio was the one to hold him then, a whirlwind of emotions inside of him. Fear. Did this mean he would lose his haven? Would he lose Benvolio? He couldn't, he couldn't, no matter what. He would do anything, say anything, pretend anything, if only Benvolio didn't abandon him. In the end he was the one being reassured, because of course Benvolio would never go away. They were brothers, friends for life, nothing could separate them. It would just be a little painful for a while that's all. But it was okay, they agreed. They had time. They were only seventeen after all.

Loving Romeo was different from anything in his past. Kind, gentle, oblivious Romeo. Romeo was only interested in girls, it wouldn't have been fair to put him on the spot by telling him about something ridiculous like _feelings_. He could never do anything to hurt a friend if he knew, which was why Mercutio never told him. So Mercutio did the only thing he could: he put on a show, sleeping with any girl that caught his eye, all the while savoring each time he comforted a broken-hearted Romeo. He knew why Romeo always ended up alone, he could have told him, helped him and guided him, but that would have meant possibly losing him, and Mercutio wasn't that selfless.

Mercutio tried to keep it from Benvolio, didn't want to hurt him, but Benvolio only smiled. It had been a long time since they were together, Mercutio could love whoever he wanted without fearing hurting him, he said. He would always be there to let Mercutio rest his head. Mercutio didn't notice the twinge of pain in his smile.

Even if his chest ached when Romeo went on about Rosaline Mercutio only grinned. It was too easy to mock his friend and the silly obsession he had that would only run out into the sand eventually. He hadn't counted on the ball, hadn't expected Romeo to be so different after. He was alive, happy again, and in high spirits in a way Mercutio had never seen him before. It made him scared. What had happened that Mercutio didn't know?

Tybalt had screamed about a kiss.

It couldn't be, it couldn't be. Everything Mercutio had done, all that he had kept hidden, would he still end up losing? It had been a long time since it had hurt to face Tybalt, but standing next to Romeo as Tybalt demanded a duel felt too much like Mercutio's past and present all coming to a head. Accepting the challenge in Romeo's stead was made without thinking, only his feelings pushing him forward. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't turn away and let it all happen whatever way it was supposed to. Tybalt, Benvolio, Romeo—they were all gathered there, all in one place, and it was too much. Romeo was in love with someone. Tybalt had come for Romeo's life. There was only one thing to do.

The pain was a blessing, and the knowledge that he wouldn't have to see the end even more so. Now Romeo could love and marry whoever he wanted, and Mercutio wouldn't have to be there. Tybalt had gotten his blood, perhaps it would finally make him see everything with clarity. Benvolio was the last, his friend, his brother, his haven. He kept his promise, Mercutio thought as Benvolio held him close, tears dripping on his face from above. He never went away.

Mercutio laid his head on Benvolio's shoulder and closed his eyes, and then he was gone.


End file.
